


Jason Just Wants Some Milk

by PurpleArrowzandLeather



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Bruce is Emotionally Constipated, Hurt/Comfort, Until That Weird moment When he's Not, and it's a Learning Experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-23 12:50:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15606654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleArrowzandLeather/pseuds/PurpleArrowzandLeather
Summary: Jason wakes one morning and finds that he's out of milk. What happens when he goes to get it makes him wish he hadn't gotten out of bed. Well, maybe it's not so bad..... there is food in it for him.





	Jason Just Wants Some Milk

          Jason comes around with a groan, his mouth tasting like paper and his hair sticking up in odd directions. He reaches blindly for his phone, shying away from the blinding light. He rubs his eyes, pressing his face into his pillow for a few seconds before looking back at the screen. 

          "Three?" Jason grouses, his voice scratchy with the early morning hours. "Ugh." Rubbing at his eyes again, Jason rolls onto his side with a heavy-laden sigh.

          Last night, he had been chasing gunrunners, and that lasted well into the morning. After that he stopped in at a few undisclosed locations to pick up his cut from the mobs. Then around noon, he dropped in on an underground drug ring. It's been a long time since he fought six assassins at once. It was a very bloody experience. On the upside, he won. So there's that. He then spent a bit of time stopping a bank robbery, and one unlucky purse-snatcher who actually ran fast enough to give him a run for his money. Ridiculously so.

          "Less than six hours sleep and I've been awake for the last two days. B, you are the worst possible influence."

          Jason looks at his phone again just to make sure he's seeing it right and groans when he gets the same answer. He pulls himself out of bed, achy and sore from all the recent activity that kept him too busy. He limps out to the kitchen, stepping gingerly on his left knee.  _Ninjas._

          He opens the fridge, reaching vaguely in the direction of the milk and blinking when he finds none. He shuts the door with a growl and shakes his head. He needs milk. 

          Padding carefully back to his room, he strips down to his boxers and tugs on a pair of pants instead of his sweats. He grabs his back holsters for ease of access. That, and, not getting arrested for having guns in a public space. He shrugs his leather jacket over his shoulders, grimacing as the slice on his upper back smarts. He shoves his wallet into his front pocket, his domino following shortly after. He glances at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, since the door is standing wide open. He groans as he sees the dark circles under his eyes that make him look like a raccoon. 

          Sliding his gun into their holsters under his jacket, he treads down the steps, holding the railing just in case.  _Of course the elevator is broken. The one time I might think to actually use it._

          His leg hurts, but it's not the end of the world. 

          Jason stops on the landing before heading out to the parking lot. He sits down on his bike, swiping a hand over his face. Tugging his helmet on, Jason pulls out of the lot, headed for the nearest grocery store. He's got a bad feeling when he pulls up, as usual.

          He walks into the store and smiles at the cashier where he's sweeping up. Lenny's a good kid, but he's a nervous wreck when confronted with danger. He's really hoping that his bad feeling is wrong.

          "Hey, Lenny."

          "Jack! A little late for you to be out, isn't it?"

          Jason huffs. "Missed curfew by about..... fifty-two hours."

          "Yikes! Help yourself to the sleeping pills."

          Jason is about to answer when he catches movement from outside the store. Multiple guys. Packing.

          "Len, get behind the desk."

          "Uh... what?"

          "Get. behind. the. desk." Jason hisses.  

          Lenny does as he's told, his fingers tracing over the sawed-off under the counter, but his expression is passive. Jason knows he's nervous, but he'll hold it together until something happens. 

          Jason takes in his surroundings. Two couples. One by the liquor, the other by the junk food. There's two kids with the second couple and Jason bristles. He heads over to the milk, eyes sweeping through the aisles. A guy who looks ragged enough to be an addict is by the bread. A haggard-looking woman who probably just got off her shift is by the vegetables. A red-head who looks so tired she might pass out is grabbing a pack of skittles in the candy aisle. Jason sighs, thunking his head against the glass of the fridge with the milk.

          "This is gonna suck."

          Heaving a sigh, he opens the door, limping back to the register with three gallons of milk. A group of five guys come in, guns firing up at the ceiling. Jason doesn't even flinch, letting Lenny scan the milk and put it in bags. 

          "Just keep it cool." Jason murmurs. "They'll come after me, not you. I'm the one in their way."

          "HEY! You in the leather!"

          Jason turns, feigning innocence. "Need something?"

          The man's brow furrows and he growls. "Do you not see the very large gun I'm holding?"

          "I see it. I just don't see what you need it for."

          He turns the weapon, cracking Jason on the back of the head with it. Jason blacks out for a few seconds, groaning as he comes back around. 

          Boots run by his head. He counts three others besides the one yelling at Lenny to open his register. Jason gets to a crouch, his knee protesting the movement, but complying. He tackles the man with a growl, his gun clattering from his hands as he hits the ground. Jason knocks him out with a swift punch and orders Lenny to duck under the table. 

          He turns around, only to catch a bullet in the shoulder. He falls back with a grimace, landing on top of his guns. He works his way onto his side tugging a gun free and shooting the second guy. He's blindsided by a third guy as the butt of a gun rams into his temple. He doesn't get up. 

          He wakes up in a haze of pain, vision blurry and blood pounding in his skull. He starts to sit up, but a pair of hands press at his chest. 

          "Stay down."

          Glancing at her as well as he can, he squints trying to make out her face. "Who're you?"

          "My name is Claire. I patched you up as well as I could with what I had, but they aren't letting you out to get help."

          "Help?" Jason echoes.

          "You were shot in the shoulder with a high-caliber round. I couldn't get to it. You're gonna be fine though, but I'm more worried about a concussion."

          "Hmm."

          "How many fingers am I holding up?"

          Jason grimaces as fingers appear in front of him. They're all a bit fuzzy, but he's not seeing double as far as he can tell. "Three."

          "Good. What about your name? You know your name?"

          Jason sighs heavily.  _What was my cover for this place again?_ Swallowing, he goes for a good guess. "Jack Daniels."

          "Len?"

          "He's got half of it, anyway. I can't tell if he's serious or not, though."

          "Okay, Jack, do you think you can sit up?"

          Jason frowns, shifting a bit. "Yeah. I think so."

          "Good. They roughed you up pretty badly while you were out. You're lucky not to have internal bleeding."

          "Yeah?"

          "They bruised your kidneys, at least, I think they did. They got a couple of nasty shots in on your face and stomach too."

          Jason chuckles. "Definitely not the worst I've had."  _No. That was dying._

          "Good."

          Jason blinks. "So what's the verdict on all the.... um..." Jason gestures around. "Blurry."

          "I was worried about a grade two concussion. It's still in that range, I think, but you'll be fine so long as you don't try anything else."

          Jason groans. "Right. The hostage.... thingy. We didn't get out of that?"

          "No."

          Jason groans again, heaving himself upright. Spots dance in his vision as he gets dizzy. "Could this day get any worse?"

          "Only if we all die."

          Jason laughs, the sound loud and pained.  _Oh, irony. We've got to stop meeting like this._

          Lenny, chuckles nervously. "Jack, that's not a joke."

          "Not to you, it's not." Jason huffs, another laugh flopping from his lips. 

          Jason hisses in pain as the woman puts pressure on his shoulder, but he doesn't try to push her away. That would be stupid. 

          "How do you feel, Jack?"

          "Okay, mostly." Jason says, feeling around his back with his good arm. "Where's my other gun?"

          "Gone. They took them both."

          "How many hostages are there? 10?"

          "Exactly ten, excluding you. How'd you know?" the woman asks.

          Jason groans, pressing a hand to his eye. "I was counting. Can you do a head-count for me?"

          He can feel the woman shift next to him and Lenny grabs onto his arm to help him stay upright. "Two kids, parents are with them in the far corner. Another couple. Doug."

          "Who's Doug?"

          "Oh, um, he's a coke-addict who lives on South 7th, in the back alley."

          "Ah. And how is Doug?"

          "Complacent."

          "Well, at least that'll keep him from getting shot." Jason murmurs. 

          "We've got a woman who looks ready to pass out. She's eating candy."

          "Skittles?"

          "Yep. And good news, I don't think your concussion is too bad. Vision clearing up yet?"

          Jason picks up a heavy hand, blinking. "Better."

          "You are gonna be  _sore_. How do your kidneys feel?"

          Jason doesn't have a chance to ask her what she means when she presses her hands firmly against his back. A long, painful groan leaves him. He hunches, clutching his ribs. 

          "Ow."

          Jason glances around, his surroundings slowly sharpening again. His skull is pounding with a lovely headache. Jason takes account of the hostages, then the positions of the guards.  _Idiots._ They're all just off to the side of the windows. Jason's thermal could pick them out in a heartbeat, and Bruce's would have much the same result. He sighs, climbing to his feet. 

          "Wait,  _Jack_ _!_ What are you doing?" Lenny exclaims, whisper-yelling at him. 

          "Don't worry, Len. This'll be a piece of cake."

          The doctor grabs his arm and Jason glances down at her. "You're going to get yourself killed."

          He shrugs, looking around for his guns. They left them on the cash register. Jason nods to himself, dipping into a crouch and making his way back. None of them are watching the hostages, a negotiator on the phone with the main man yelling at him. Jason rolls his eyes, but regrets it when pain spikes through his forehead. He favors his knee, grimacing as it impedes his progress. He picks up his gun, standing up. He can't just kill them in cold blood. Gordon wouldn't be very happy about that.

          "Hey!" Jason snaps. 

          Their expressions morph from shock to anger and they turn their guns on him. One gets off a round, but it misses by a long shot, landing solidly in the wall. Jason squeezes the trigger four times, one for each man. They go down, weapons clattering to the floor as they clutch their hips. They'll need surgery to ever walk again. Jason moves as quick as he can to take the guns. He knocks out the guys with one swift punch to the face each. Even the big guys goes down with just the one, barely having tried to put up a fight. Jason finds his other gun and returns to the back of the store. 

          "It's safe to come out. The gunmen are down."

          Lenny chuckles. "Thanks, Jack. You're a life-saver."

          "I just came for the milk."

          Lenny puts a hand out and Jason shakes it, wincing as his shoulder is jostled. "Take all the milk you want, man."

          Jason shakes the good doc's hand too. "Thanks for patching me up."

          "I get to go home to my kids because of you. I think you deserve the thanks more."

          Jason bobs his head, the lights in the store making his vision pulse a bit. Jason grits his teeth, heading over to the register. His milk jugs are all broken, likely the raging result of his... ahem, resistance earlier. Jason returns to the fridge, grabbing three more gallons of milk and subtly slipping a twenty into the cash drawer on his way out. He leaves with his bags in hand, ignoring the police outside the building who are very confused. The other hostages start to file out behind him and Jason grumbles. 

          "That was some work, kid."

          Jason glances over, seeing Gordon leaning casually against the wall of the alley. "It was nothing."

          "Sure it was. Batman patched himself into our radio frequency from the Watchtower and listening in on the whole thing. He told us thermal imaging said you were down. Or that someone was."

          "Not shocked it's me?"

          "Kid, if I was shocked by someone carrying a gun or two in Gotham by now, I think it would be far past time to retire."

          "Are you gonna make me come down to the station?"

          Gordon twitches his mustache. "No." he leaves the wall with a heavy breath, coming to stand next to Jason. "I'm going to make sure you get home all right."

          "Thanks but no thanks, mister."

          Gordon chuckles. "Got some street kid attitude."

          Jason huffs, starting to walk, barely protesting when Gordon takes his bags. "Born an' raised." he tries to take his groceries back.

          "No." Gordon says firmly. "You're doing enough just supporting yourself. There's no need to saddle yourself with more."

          Jason blows out a breath, treading a bit faster despite that fact that it makes him limp a bit more. "Fine. Whatever."

          It takes a good half-hour to get home and Jason wishes he could have taken his bike. It'll be safer in the parking lot, unfortunately, since he'd be a lot more likely to crash and die at this point.

          "I'll have Officer Blake swing by with your bike."

          Jason opens his mouth.

          "Don't deny the bike is yours. Batman identified it."

          Jason growls. "I need new plates again."

          Gordon is quiet for a minute before deciding on what to say. "Why is Batman watching out for you, kid?"

          Jason pauses in his walk, letting his head drop a little as he sighs. "I remind him of someone he used to know."

          They finish the trek in relative silence, Gordon following him all the way up to his floor of the apartment complex. He puts the milk in the fridge and watches Jason slouch down on his sofa. He tugs his jacket off with a grimace, only pausing on his shirt long enough to decide how he's getting out of it. There's a towel taped to him, but not much else. Gordon finds himself cataloging the myriad of scars across his front, pairing it with the peak physical condition that he appears to be in. 

          He sits down on the couch next to the kid, watching him gently tug out a medical kit form under it. "Someone he used to know? Or someone he does?"

          He pauses in his doctoring, eyes flicking to him for all of a half-second before returning to his shoulder. He snags his tweezers and Gordon's eyes widen as he digs into his shoulder without anesthetic. He grimaces, twisting the tweezers a bit before tugging them back out with a horrifying amount of precision. The bullet is lodged between the two sticks of metal. 

          "Looks like you do this a lot."

          Another flick of his gaze. 

          "You know, hypothetically-"

          The kids chuckles, but he doesn't interrupt otherwise. 

          "Hypothetically, If I told you I thought you might be Batman's son, what would you say?"

          The kid hesitates before smiling again. "I'd tell you to mind your own damn business."

          "Seriously, kid. What?"

          "Hypothetically?"

          "Hypothetically." Gordon agrees.

          "I'd tell you that Jason Peter Todd isn't dead anymore and the Big Bad Batman a.k.a Bruce Wayne is a pain in my ass."

          Gordon gapes.

          His grin flashes so wide that he shows all his teeth. "Hypothetically."

          "Jason? You're Jason Todd?"

          The kid, Jason, laughs. "I never said that."

          Jason starts to stitch up his shoulder, letting Gordon stew in his misery as he stares at Jason's face. "You died."

          His expression darkens. "I've heard being killed by the Joker is a fun way to go. You know, the whole 'beaten to a bloody pulp with a crowbar and then blown sky high by a laughing mad man all because your own mother handed your over to him'." Jason shrugs. "So I've heard anyway."

          Gordon doesn't seem to know what to say. It's a long five minutes while Jason finishes stitching and puts a bandage over his wound. Jason doesn't think he's ever going to speak again when a hand lands on his shoulder.

          "Come 'ere, kid."

          He hesitates, what Gordon's intentions are dawning on him, but he turns anyway. Gordon pulls him into a tentative hug and Jason is stiff for only a few seconds before relaxing into his grip. Jason doesn't realize he's shaking until Gordon is rubbing a hand on his back and trying to quiet him. 

          "Everything you say from this point on is hypothetical, kid. I won't tell a single soul."

          Jason squeezes his eyes shut. " _He didn't come._ "

          "He did, Jason. He tried. He was only late by a few seconds. Batman was so _close_ to saving you, and he has never forgiven himself for that."

          " _He replaced me not even six months after I died._ "

          Gordon wraps his arms around the boy a little tighter. "You didn't see him, Jason. You don't understand. I realize now that the third Robin must have been Tim Drake, and I think I can see what happened."

          Jason scoffs.

          "Batman was dangerous. He was about two seconds from going off the rails, putting thugs in the hospital and casts for things that would take months and months of rehab to recover. He paralyzed a man from the neck down just after putting Joker in a full-body cast. The third Robin put a stop to that. Batman calmed down a little. I don't know what Tim did, or why he did it, but it stopped Bruce from potentially killing someone or..." Jason stiffens. "or more likely himself."

          "Himself?"

          "He wouldn't have done it outright, but he was reckless, Jason. So reckless. I thought he was going to snap."

          Jason pulls back, quickly jerking from the couch and grabbing his jacket. He throws it in the laundry, moving to hide from Gordon's words by pretending he's picking out a new shirt. 

          Gordon cautiously enters his bedroom, resting a hand on Jason's good shoulder. "He loves you, Jason. Losing you almost destroyed him."

          Jason bites his lip, closing his closet door and leaning his head against the cool wood. " _How can he love me._..." Jason whispers. " _when what I do embodies everything he hates?"_

          Tears drip down his cheeks and onto the floor and Gordon pretends that it isn't happening. "If he hated you, why would he try so desperately to make sure you came out of that store alive?"

          A shaky breath drops from his mouth and Gordon backs off. "I'm gonna go now, kiddo. You take good care of yourself."

          Jason nods against the door frame, feeling sick to his stomach. 

          "You know, Jason, I wouldn't be too surprised if he stopped by tonight."

          "You said he was in the Watchtower."

          Gordon chuckles. "He was. Before he caught wind of the hostage situation and realized you were part of it. Oh, and despite your... other nightly activities, it's good to see you back, kiddo."

          Jason pushes himself to smile back at Gordon. After the door to the hallway clicks shut, Jason's knees collapse out from under him, the one aching, but he doesn't care. If even Gordon can attest to the fact that Bruce was going insane, it might be time to consider that Bruce really and truly cares.

          A sob chokes him and he pushes himself into the corner of the room. Bruce never tried to tell him any of this, just letting Jason believe he was perfectly fine after he died. He doesn't understand why Bruce would keep Tim's reasons for becoming Robin from him. Tim had tried to explain, Jason knew that, but he wasn't in any kind of proper head-space to listen.

          A voice in the back of his head that sounds a lot like Alfred speaks lowly to him.  ** _It's a man's duty as a father to protect his children from any kind of hurt they could endure. Sometimes, that includes protecting them from his own._**

          Jason tugs at his hair, curling up at tightly as he can.  _You let me think you just replaced me without a second thought._

          Disgust rolls through him, directed mostly at himself. He deluded himself into believing that Bruce never cared. It was easily enforced, mostly because of the pit-rage, but still. It hurts to think about. He easily recalls Bruce's smiles before he died. He'd ruffle Jason's hair and steal his popcorn during movie night. He'd patch Jason up after a hard night with firm but gentle hands. Even his longest lectures were because Jason had been careless with his life, and most of those were from after the Lazarus pit. Bruce didn't even defend himself. Two weeks ago, he jumped in front of a bullet, probably thinking Jason hadn't noticed. 

           _I did. I noticed and thought it was ridiculous and unnecessarily dramatic._

          He almost doesn't notice when a shadow joins him in the corner, sitting close, but not too close, as he cries. Jason leans over anyway, pressing his face into Bruce's shoulder 

          "Are you all right?" comes the low murmur. 

          Jason shakes his head, sobs starting to shake his frame. He wraps his good arm around Bruce as well as he can. 

          "What's gotten into you? What happened?"

          Jason can't bring himself to say what he wants to, so he goes with something simple for the time being. " _I just wanted some milk, and-_ "

          Bruce slips his cowl off, pulling Jason into his arms. Jason can tell he's unsure, and is probably assuming it's another one of his mood swings, but he still holds onto him. He rocks ever so gently and Jason squeezes his eyes shut. 

          " _Why didn't you tell me?_ " Jason can tell he's confused, but he doesn't say as much. " _You let me hate you._ "

          Bruce moves slow, as not to startle him, taking off his gloves to card calloused fingers through Jason's hair. "What would pushing you to change your mind have done?" Jason nods, not trusting himself to speak. "I would have pushed you away before you ever had a chance to come home."

          " _M'Sorry. M's'so sorry._ "

          Bruce quiets him, rubbing his back. "It's not your fault."

           _But it is._

          "It's okay."

          " _How can you love me?"_

          Jason stills as Bruce presses a kiss to his forehead like he used to do when Jason was little. "You're my son. I know that you had a father, but you are  _my_ son, and I love you. I don't care what you do, so long as you don't forget that." A whine squeezes from his throat and Bruce hugs him a little tighter. "You're okay." Bruce shushes him, murmuring reassurances the whole time. 

          Tears drip down Jason's face as he muffles sobs in Bruce's shoulder, Bruce still carding gentle fingers through his hair. The amount of possessiveness in Bruce's tone when he claimed him as his son had made this weird fuzzy feeling crawl through his chest. He grips the cape in his hands. He takes a long few minutes to calm down enough to speak, but he's too exhausted by that point to come up with anything.

          Bruce picks him up with practiced ease even though Jason is two hundred pounds of muscle. He settles Jason down on the bed, pulling a chair over from his desk. Jason turns onto his side, facing Bruce. Tears are still flowing down his cheeks and Bruce brushes them away with his thumb. 

          "Rest, Jason. I'll be here when you wake up."

          Jason's chest squeezes. " _Promise?_ "

          Bruce smiles softly. "Promise."

          Jason tilts his chin into his chest and squeezes his eyes shut, shame burning through him at how needy he's being. Bruce doesn't seem to mind, running rough fingertips over Jason's scalp until he falls asleep. When Bruce knows he's out, he gets up to grab a change of clothes from the Batmobile. It's just sweats and a t-shirt. Bruce got a little lazy tonight since Jason had been in trouble. The thick armor is very compliant as he shoves it into the duffle instead, only keeping the cape to drape over Jason's legs. He's always too cold.

          It occurs to him that Jason's going to be pretty sore in the morning and he rustles around the apartment a little to find something to heat up. Luckily for him, apparently Jason keeps cherry bags around. He's careful to place one along Jason's spine and one right next to the curve of his stomach. Jason hums contentedly, curling a bit closer to the one by his stomach. Bruce carefully checks the bandage on his shoulder, noting the proper spacing between stitches despite its location. He smiles, moving to find a wash rag to clean up the extra blood. Jason twitches the first time the cloth rasps across his skin, but after Bruce's reassurance that it's just him, he doesn't make a sound. He checks him for other injuries, finding that his knee is bruised up and puffy. He finds an ice pack to help out a little.

          He'd be lying if doing this for Jason without griping and yelling didn't make him feel a little cheery. Bruce chuckles to himself. The last time he'd been anything resembling  _cheery_ was probably before the Justice League at some point. 

          He won't chalk it up to warm and fuzzy just yet. He'll have to see how Jason feels in the morning before he enters that kind of land-mine territory. Glancing out the window, Bruce realizes it's getting light outside, so maybe later. Later, it turns out, is nearly six in the evening. Bruce reheats the cherry bags ever hour or so, keeping the warmth coming, since Jason seems to enjoy it so much. He's groggy when he comes around. 

          "B?"

          Bruce chuckles. "Morning, sleeping beauty."

          Jason's eyes narrow and he scowls lightly. "Morning. My mouth tastes like sandpaper."

          "Come on, up you go." Bruce smiles, picking Jason up. 

          "Hey!" Jason objects. "I have two perfectly good legs of my own."

          "Your knee swelled up. You aren't walking on it."

          Jason mocks him under his breath, but otherwise doesn't try to get away, only reaching down to grab the cape before Bruce carries him off. He puts him down at the island and Jason wraps the cape around himself, suddenly cold without the comfort of his bed. Bruce shows off some hidden cooking skills as he flips an omelet for him. Jason doesn't know how great it'll be, but Bruce puts cheese on it and a little salt and pepper, and something off his shelf that he doesn't get a good look at. It can't be that bad. Bruce slides the plate in front of him, handing him a fork along with it. It smells good. Mouth-wateringly good. Bruce ruffles his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before stepping out for a minute. 

          Jason has no idea how he missed that Bruce still cared. 

          Jason catches Alfred's name from Bruce's end of the conversation and his anxiety calms a little. Jason starts to eat, finding that Bruce's cooking skills far outweigh anything Jason would have guessed. He's nearly drooling over his plate. If Alfred was here, he would be crying tears of joy. Jason makes a point to remind himself to check Bruce's phone tabs and search history. Still, if Bruce were to have a secret skill, this may be it.

          Jason doesn't know how long the coddling will last (he's kinda hoping it ends soon, it's weird), but for now he's just going to enjoy his omelet. 

          Bruce comes in after another minute or so, smiling at Jason's clear plate. "Enjoy your omelet?"

          Jason swallows the last bit, nodding. "Alfred always said you couldn't cook."

          "Alfred says a lot of things. You all just assume he's right."

          Jason smiles. "He usually is."

          Bruce chuckles. "True enough." his bemused expression falls quickly though as he readies himself to ask what he's been wanting to ask.

          Jason tenses, sensing his shift in moods. "B?"

          "What did Gordon say that left you on the floor like that?"

          Jason swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Um, he.... he told me what you were like after I... died." he winces at his wording. It still sounds stupid, even now.

          Bruce winces a little too. "I didn't-" he sighs. "I'm not proud of it, Jason."

          Jason pulls Bruce's cape a little tighter around his shoulders. "I never said you were."

          "It was a mess."

          "You mean you were?"

          Bruce smiles tersely. "Yes. I pushed everyone away, wouldn't talk to Dick. Wouldn't talk to anyone, really. Except probably Alfred."

          "Gordon knew you were different."

          "I'm not surprised. I was starting to look less like a hero and more like public enemy number one."

          Jason chuckles. "I think I've already filled that spot. Sorry, B. Your Bingo card probably won't be full for a long time."

          "Well, I've got a lot a spots myself, you know? Billionaire, company owner, womanizer, vigilante, proud father."

          Jason huffs. "Yeah, cuz' I'm somethin' to be proud of."

          "Jason, you came back from the dead. You keep people safe. You built a life for yourself. I may not like  _how_ you do it, but I understand why."

          Jason smiles thinly, his throat closing up a bit. "B?"

          "Yes, Jason?"

          "You- I-Um... I-"

          Bruce chuckles. "Love you too, Jay."

          Jason's smile is a little warmer this time, and he suddenly feels really tired. The last thing Jason remembers in his slightly groggy state is the swaying sensation of being carried back to bed. Careful fingers tug on the white streak in his hair and he's pretty sure that Bruce planted a kiss on the top of his head before heading out. 

          "Night, Jason."

          Jason fades.  _Night, B._

          When he wakes up in the morning, there are cooling hot-packs by his side, but Bruce is missing. His whole body aches, his shoulder whining at him that it's sore, and his knee throbbing with his heartbeat. His skull pounds.  _Ugh. I should never have gone to get milk._ He rubs his puffy eyes.  _I should never have gotten out of bed._

          He's stopped in his moaning by a smell wafting from the kitchen.  _Mmm. Waffles._ Jason rolls out of his bed, grabbing the carefully placed crutches next to his nightstand. Bruce isn't in the kitchen either. Jason would be he was here not to long ago. The plate with three large waffles on it is still warm. This is starting to weird him out a bit, but still, he maneuvers his way over to the fridge to grab his syrup and the sits down. They are heavenly, and Bruce left the butter nearby, knife ready for use. He's drooling. Unabashedly drooling, and he knows it. 

          "Bruce, you are gonna make me fat at this rate."

          "Someone ought to."

          Jason jumps a little, his knee hitting the side of the island and he bites hit tongue. Bruce closes the door to the apartment, rushing over to Jason to check on him.

          "Are you all right?"

          Jason nods. "I think so."

          Bruce slides his chair back a few inches to avoid anymore confrontations with the offending wood paneling. "Good."

          He ruffles Jason's hair, moving around the island to reach up to the glass cabinet. He pours a glass of milk for Jason and Jason swallows the whole thing down in a few gulps. His throat is parched.

          Bruce only chuckles. 

          "What, getting this was a battle hard-fought." Jason grumbles, not really meaning it as Bruce pours him another glass. 

          "Why did you need to go get milk at three in the morning?"

          Jason shrugs. "I needed it."

          "It couldn't have waited until a decent hour?"

          Jason scowls. "What do you know about decent hours?" Bruce laughs, causing Jason to drop his fork onto his plate with a clatter. "Are you feeling okay?"

          "I'm fine. Why?"

          "You laughed, like, like a real laugh. You don't laugh."

          Bruce smiles broadly, and Jason finds that it's contagious. It makes Bruce seem so much younger, the worry lines leaving his features for the first time in a long time. Jason resumes eating his waffles.  _Okay, so maybe the milk thing didn't have such a bad turnout._


End file.
